


Dog Days

by stjaninaro



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:52:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjaninaro/pseuds/stjaninaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan gets coerced into dog-sitting at his brother's beach house and drags a lovelorn Martin with him in the hopes of getting some writing done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal in July 2010.

“Can’t you find someone else to do it?… No I understand…. Yeah… It’s fine, I mean if there’s no one else, there’s no one else… Yeah… Leave the keys at mums, I’ll pick them up tomorrow… Ok. Bye, Steven.”

Alan hung up the phone and rubbed his hands over his face. The one weekend the band had had off in weeks and he was going to be spending it house-sitting for his eldest brother. Fantastic.

He sighed heavily, walking back into the studio just as Dave threw a balled up newspaper at the back of Fletch’s head. “Oi! Knock it off Gahan!”

“Ha! You gonna make me Fletchie?”

Alan side-stepped out of the doorway as a giggling Dave Gahan raced out, pursued by an angry redhead. Shaking his head at their juvenile antics, he flopped into his swivel chair and glanced at an uncharacteristically downbeat Martin. “What’s up with you? I thought you’d be excited about your romantic weekend with Anne?”

Martin fiddled with a knob on the mixing board, filling the room with the lead riff from Get The Balance Right, the track they’d been working on, Alan’s first with the group. He flicked it off again and shrugged. “She got a last minute place in Christian Goodness Camp. She’s gone for the next two weeks.”

Raising a brow, Alan felt a stab of sympathy for him. “Oh…. That’s… That’s a bit shit mate. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I was just looking forward to spending a weekend away from this place to be honest. I’ve been trying to write, but there’s too much going on, you know?”

“Yeah I know what you mean. That’s was I was going to do this weekend too.”

Martin glanced up at him. “You  _were_ going to do? Aren’t you anymore?”

“That was my brother on the phone there. He needs me to house-sit for him this weekend. He’s been offered a job as a music teacher in Finland, so he and the wife are going to meet with the board and see what they think of the place.” Alan lapsed into a depressed silence. Then he’s struck with an idea. “Hey Martin? Do you want to come house-sit with me? It’ll be quiet so you can get some writing done, and its right by the beach so we could have a swim too.”

Martin’s eyes light up. He nods delightedly, blonde afro swaying with the sudden movement. “That’d be great! I love the beach! Cheers Alan!”

“Yeah, no problem.” Alan grins back at him. This will be a good opportunity to get the know the shy songwriter a bit better. He’s been wanting to explore him, find out what makes him tick, since he joined the band almost a whole year ago. There’s something elusive about Martin that intrigues him.

They decide to meet here at the studio early the next morning. Alan is going to drive them down to the coast after they’ve picked up the keys from his parents house. Hopefully they’ll be there in plenty of time for a swim before dinner.

***

“Morning Mum.”

“Good morning Mrs. Wilder.”

Alan’s mother opened the door to them at 11 the next morning. “Good morning sweetheart. And Martin, hello.”

“Steven said he’d leave the keys to the house here.”

“Oh of course dear. Here they are. Will you come in for some breakfast? The two of you need fattening up!”

Rolling his eyes, Alan turned to Martin with a look that said ‘ _I told you so’._ Martin giggled quietly. Alan had warned him his mother was like this and that she’d try force food on them at the first opportunity.

Declining politely, Alan leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek, and they turned to leave. “Oh! Alan dear! Did you remember to pack a jumper? It gets chilly on the beach sometimes.”

“We’ll be fine Mum. Bye!” Alan waved out the window, as he started the car.

Turning on the radio, Martin grimaced at the pop tripe that greeted them. Alan pointed him towards the glove compartment, which was filled to bursting with all manner of cassettes. Digging out the latest Front 242 tape, Martin popped it in the tape deck and the next 3 hours flew by in a blur of music and laughter. It was like going on holiday as a kid all over again! Martin never would have expected Alan to be so carefree. He came across as quite aloof and, pretty much too cool, to allow himself to relax this much.

***

“There goes our swim.”

“Maybe its just a passing shower?”

“Al. It’s been pissing down for the last 20 miles. And those clouds don’t exactly look friendly.”

Alan sighed with disappointment, leaning forward to peer through the fogged up windscreen and the sheets of rain outside. “Sorry Martin.”

Martin laughed incredulously, “I know you’re a bloody talented bugger Alan, but I don’t think even you can control the weather.”

Chuckling, Alan had to nod in agreement. They drove in silence for another half an hour, along increasingly small, narrow roads as they got nearer the coast. “There it is! Finally. I’m dying for a cuppa.”

Pulling up outside the house, Martin was struck by how pretty it was, even painted in the odd pairing of creamy yellow and terracotta. It was small, but inviting. Alan smiled at his expression. It had been a while since he’d last visited his brother here, the age difference between them sufficient for them to keep their distance, other than during family occasions.

“Ugh we’re gonna get soaked! Want to make a run for it?”

Alan nodded, quickly turning to grab his bags off the backseat, and making sure he had the right key ready to open the door. Martin did the same, and on the count of three, they raced across the garden to the front porch. Getting absolutely drowned wet in the process.

They stood dripping in the hall as they dumped their bags on the floor, Alan laughing at Martin’s hair drooping under the weight of the water. Martin just glared at him and shook his head, sprinkling rain drops at him. “Fuck Martin! What are you, a dog?”

“No. But that is.” Martin replied, pointing at the rather large dog standing in the kitchen doorway looking at them, with his head cocked to the side. Suddenly he moved. A blur of motion coming towards them. He crashed into Alan’s legs, sending him lunging for the stairs in an effort to remain upright. Looking around in confusion, Alan saw the dog on his hind legs, dinner-plate paws planted firmly on Martin’s chest as he licked his nose.

“Um… A little help?! Get this thing off me!”

Alan moved to grab his collar, hauling him to the ground. The dog was having none of it, desperately trying to get back to tasting Martin. Struggling to hold him back, Alan racked his brain, trying to remember its name. He’d forgotten about the dog Presumably Stephen had actually mentioned it to him, but he’d been so busy trying to weasel his way out of house-sitting, he mustn’t have heard.

“Jackson! Sit!”

Martin had caught sight of the name-tag hanging off his collar, almost completely buried in the mass of caramel fur. Luckily Jackson was a very well-trained dog. He sat, whining quietly, fixing his soulful brown eyes on Martin.

Slowly relaxing his grip on the collar, Alan patted him gently on the head. Almost losing his fingers in the process, as the dog snapped at him. “What the fuck?!”

Jackson turned back to Martin, whining and wagging his tail, completely ignoring Alan. “I don’t think he likes you much Al.”

“Little bastard. I didn’t do anything to him!”

Martin knelt down and gently scratched the dog behind his ear. “He’s gorgeous. What breed is he, do you know?”

“Eh… some Texan something. I’m not sure. Oh wait, it’s a Blue Lacy. They‘re a working breed. That’s actually supposed to be a really unusual colour for them. They‘re usually black, or black and white.” Alan answered, a memory surfacing of his father telling him the extortionate amount of money his brother had paid for the pureblood. “You want to go get changed into something dry, and find something to eat?”

“Yeah sure.”

***

Satisfied that his hair wasn’t going to get any drier, Alan dropped the towel on the floor, heading downstairs to fix dinner, and slowly doing up his buttons as he walked. Martin came out of his room, carrying his notebook. Neither of them looking where they were going, they walked into each other at the top of the stairs. Martin landed on his arse on the floor.

Rubbing his head, he glanced up to see Alan doing the same. The pale expanse of skin exposed by Alan’s open shirt dazzled him for a moment. Martin realised his mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it as Alan reached down to pull him up, effectively breaking the spell. “Thanks.” He muttered, hiding his light blush by bending down to pick up his fallen notebook.

“Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention.” Alan grinned suddenly. “You hungry?”

Martin nodded. They made their way into the kitchen, Martin filling the kettle as Alan opened the freezer to see what there was to eat. “Pizza ok with you?”

“What kind?”

“There’s ham and pineapple, or… lets see… Mediterranean vegetable.”

“Mmm veggie for me please!”

“Yeah, think I’ll have the same. Don’t fancy picking all the ham off the other one.”

Martin glanced over at him, surprise evident on his face. “You don’t eat meat?”

Alan shook his head, turning on the oven and sliding the two pizzas onto the shelf. “No. I’m a vegetarian. Hadn’t you noticed that?” he laughed.

“Ha. No actually I hadn’t. That’s really interesting. I was thinking of giving it a go. I’m not really a huge fan of meat. The textures all wrong or something, tastes funny.”

Alan filled the dogs bowl with some dry food and fresh water, shaking his head in exasperation as Jackson growled at him, the big dog barely bothering to move his head from Martin’s lap. He was enjoying the head massage Martin was giving him too much. Martin grinned at the look on Alan’s face but said nothing.

They brought their pizzas into the living room when they were ready, turning on the tv and settling in for the evening. There wasn’t much else they could do. They could hear the rain battering against the windows, showing no signs of abating anytime soon. Martin gazed out the window. Alan had told him you could see the beach from the house, but the rain was obscuring the view too much for him to see anything. He picked up his notebook and his favourite pen as Alan cleared away the dishes, and lay back on the couch to write.

Alan returned to find Jackson sitting on the couch beside Martin, head firmly ensconced in his lap, as Martin absentmindedly stroked his head. “Oi! Get down off the couch Jackson! Down! Now!”

He growls under his breath as the dog ignores him completely, burying his head further into Martin’s crotch. Grabbing him by the collar, Alan drags him off the sofa.

“Awh Alan why’d you do that? He wasn’t causing any harm.”

“He shouldn’t be up there Martin. He’ll get great big dirty paw prints all over it and I’ll end up having to clean the bloody thing,” he grumbled.

“Ah leave him be. He’ll be fine.”

Alan could see the dog practically fluttering its eyelashes at Martin.  _‘That bloody thing is playing me! I’ll fucking show it who’s boss!’_

“No, that’s it. He’s going outside. Time for him to go to bed anyway.”

“Alan! It’s pouring outside!”

“So? He’s got a kennel.”

“Al…”

“He’s going out Martin. I can’t concentrate on writing with him lying there glaring at me. I came down here to get some work done, not baby-sit a spoilt brat dog.”

Martin scoffed, “Glaring at you? Come on! He’s sleeping, and there hasn’t been a sound out of him. Just leave him be yeah? If he keeps annoying you, you can put him out in a bit. When the rain lightens up.”

“Fine.” Alan glares at the dog, willing it to do something so he could put it out. He really didn’t like the way it kept staring at him. Like it was planning something.

Huffing, he sits down in his chair and pulls out his own notebook. Even though he hasn’t been asked, he felt obliged to contribute some songs to the next album. The first one he’ll be properly involved in. The thought of it is enough to make his pulse race with excitement. And it also drives all thoughts of the dog firmly from his mind.

They sit and work in peace for several hours until a loud yawn breaks the silence. By unspoken agreement, Martin gets up to put Jackson outside in his kennel, thankful that the rain had stopped about an hour beforehand. He sneakily gives him a treat and a final scratch behind his ear. The whimpers that follow him as he returns to the house almost break his heart.

***

The next morning dawned fresh and clear. Martin discovers that Alan was right, the beach clearly visible from his bedroom window. He’s sure he can hear the crash of the massive waves breaking along the shore. It looks rough out there, with a strong breeze gusting around the house, and whistling down the chimney.

Martin could hear Alan on the phone as he came down the stairs. He paused in the hall, not wanting to intrude. It was obviously his brother calling to see how things were, Martin sniggered as he heard Alan’s reassurances that the dog was fantastic and oh of course he was well-behaved, and so friendly! A caramel-coloured head appeared around the door at the sound. Next thing he knew, Martin was flat on his back with Jackson pretty much standing on him.

Alan leant against the doorframe, laughing, as Jackson started to hump Martin’s leg frantically. Martin struggled to get up, but soon gave up and succumbed to laughter as well. “Ok, ok its hilarious! Wanna give me a hand here Al? Last thing I need is to be knocked up by a big-ass dog.”

This only served to send Alan into fresh gales of laughter, but he did move to grab hold of Jackson’s collar. “Maybe its your hair that’s confusing him Martin. He must think you’re a fema- Ow! Fucks sake! Stop biting me you little bastard.”

Red-faced, Martin got up from the floor, and moved closer to inspect Alan’s finger, which did indeed have the marks of teeth on it. “Damn Alan, you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” he replied, glaring darkly at the canine which looked like it was laughing at him, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, panting happily.

Martin glanced over at Jackson and smiled, taken in by his brown doe eyes. “Maybe he needs some exercise. He has been cooped up inside for the last two days. I’d bet a nice long run on the beach is just the thing.”

“I’d say you’re right there Martin. We’ll take him for a long walk after breakfast. It doesn’t look like we’ll be getting our swim anytime today. It was freezing outside when I went to let him in earlier.”

“Awh no! I was looking forward to that,” Martin frowned in disappointment, “Still I’ve always loved walking on the beach too. Guess its not that big of a deal. I am glad I brought a warm jumper though.”

Alan’s face falls. “Shit! I didn’t bring one… I’ll have to borrow one of Stephens.”

“You go have a look for one then, and I’ll make breakfast. Scrambled eggs ok?”

“Perfect.”

 

Jogging up the stairs, Alan made his way to the master bedroom and after a cursory glance round, opened the wardrobe.

_‘Oh fuck…’_

Deciding to go get his own jumper before he put the eggs on, Martin followed Alan upstairs. He could hear Alan rummaging around, the low screech of hangers being pulled across metal rails. He could also hear Alan swearing under his breath. He chuckled lightly to himself, and pulled his favourite jumper out of his bag. It was one his mum had gotten him for Christmas last year. A bit bulky, it was cream with a maroon and bottle-green checkerboard pattern around the deep, v-neck collar and cuffs. The hem was embroidered with ivy leaves in the same colours. Gorgeous. His mum had great taste.

Martin returned to the kitchen. He put some bread in the toaster to go with their scrambled eggs, and set the table as he waited for Alan to come back downstairs. When he appeared, Martin didn’t know which to laugh at; the horrendous jumper he was wearing or the black look on his face.

“Don’t. Say. A. Word.” Alan glared down at his chest, tugging at a stray thread on his sleeve. “This was the best one I could find.”

“It’s very… colourful.”

Colourful was an understatement. It looked like a rainbow had exploded. The base colour seemed to be a mixture of mottled purple and brown, with unexplainable slashes of mustard yellow and an odd scattering of diamond-shaped pink blotches. It was, in a word, atrocious.

Well used to Martin’s unusual sartorial choices, Alan didn’t bat an eyelid at his jumper, and just sat down while Martin served up their breakfast. Jackson was lying on a rug watching them, his leash hanging from his mouth.

Alan narrowed his eyes at him and received a low growl in reply. Turning to Martin he asked, “Did you tell him we were going for a walk or is he just expecting us to cater to his every whim?”

Laughing, Martin glanced over at Jackson, seeing him wagging his tail in expectation, “Yeah, we had a chat while we were waiting for you.” Nodding at Alan’s empty plate, he stands to clear the table, leaving the dishes beside the sink. “Ready to go?”

***

They decided to walk down to the beach. It was only 5 minutes away and besides, there was no way Alan was going to allow the dog to put his paws in his car. Not a chance in hell.

Martin inhaled deeply as they reached the sand, the crisp sea air filling his lungs, and reached down to unclip the leash from Jackson’s collar. The dog instantly bolts towards the shore, rolling in the wet sand at the waters edge. Alan groans. “Oh for fucks sake. He’s going to stink.”

“He’ll be fine when he dries off. Relax Alan, yeah?”

Alan nods unhappily, and sets off to walk along the firmer sand closer to the shore. Martin jogs to catch up with him. They walk mostly in silence, the wind too strong for either of them to hear anything less than a shout. There are several other people returning from walks, but after half an hour, they are completely alone.

An hour later, Martin is about ready to collapse. Tugging at Alan’s sleeve, he points at the sand dunes, and together they go sit down. Alan irritably shoving Marram grass away from his chosen seat. He has been watching Jackson gambol around Martin’s ankles and generally just fawning over him for the entire walk, and to be honest he feels left out. He’s not used to being ignored, his personality alone enough to garner attention for the most part.

Picking up a stick, Alan starts digging a small hole, flinging any rocks he finds towards the water. He looks miserable. Martin watches him out of the corner of his eye, worried by his silence. He opens his mouth to ask if Alan is ok, when he’s hit from the side by a caramel bullet. “Ooof!”

Alan looks up at the noise, taking in the sight of the dog attempting to mate with Martin. Again. Something inside him snaps. Jumping to his feet, he seizes Jackson by the scruff of the neck and pulls him off. “Get off him you fucking stupid creature! He’s not your fucking plaything!”

Jackson starts to bark furiously at him. Alan takes a step towards him, a failed attempt at intimidation, and the dog lunges at him, his teeth snapping shut on thin air as Alan backs quickly away from him. Jackson advances on him again, and before Martin even realises what has happened, the pair of them have taken off running, Alan shouting at him for help, while Jackson chases him, determined to sink his fangs into the annoying human hell-bent on ruining his fun.

Martin wanted to help, he really and truly did, but he’s hit with a wave of paralysing, hysterical laughter. Gripping his knees tightly, he wipes away the tears streaming down his face just in time to see Jackson’s teeth make contact with Alan’s arse. The howl of laughter that escapes him catches the dogs attention. He stops chasing Alan and trots back towards Martin, tail wagging manically. It takes Alan a few moments to realise he is no longer being pursued. He’s panting heavily with exertion, and is furious and embarrassed in equal amounts.

He waits until Martin has clipped Jackson’s leash back on and secured him to a large piece of driftwood, before making his way back over. Martin is still being hit with little fits of giggles when he turns to see Alan standing right behind him, face blacker than the storm clouds just visible on the horizon.

“Thanks a lot Martin.”

Martin struggles to reply, still chuckling. “I am sorry Al. I was going to help but I ju-”

“You just thought it was funnier to watch me get bitten by a fucking dog?! Some fucking friend you are!”

Alan turns to leave, hurt and fury radiating from the set of his shoulders. Martin pulls him back sharply by the arm.

“That’s not fair Alan. I didn’t think he was going to do any harm! He was just playing.”

Alan shoves him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling across the sand. “Playing?! His fucking teeth penetrated skin Martin! That’s not fucking playing! You know if you weren’t so fucking easy, you’d have realised by now that’s he’s been playing you since you set foot in the door!”

“Now hang o-”

“You’re so fucking easy to manipulate. First that girlfriend of yours, now a fucking dog?! That’s a bit pathetic don’t you think?”

Martin springs at him, his momentum sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Alan quickly catches his wrist before he can punch him in the face, and rolls them, trying urgently to knee Martin in the stomach. Martin blocks him, getting in a lucky hit to Alan’s throat with his elbow. He quickly clambers back on top, determined to break Alan’s nose at the least. Desperate, Alan winds his hand into Martin’s curls, pulling them hard. Martin squeals with rage and slaps him full across the face. Alan blinks to clear the stars from his vision, and snarls, shoving his knee hard into Martin’s crotch. Rolling away with a whimper, Martin is swiftly pinned down by Alan.

Getting his breath back, Alan is the first to notice the effect their little scuffle has had. His jeans are feeling uncomfortably tight. Martin’s are looking a little snug as well. Martin moans lightly, still in pain, and Alan is alarmed at the surge of blood to his cock in response.

Martin opens his eyes slowly, seeing Alan leaning over him, straddling his knees, hands pinning his wrists to the ground above his head, breathing much more ragged than it should have been. He notices Alan’s eyes are tightly shut, and shifts slightly to try catch his attention.

Alan groans at the movement, alerting Martin to his own trouser situation. He flushes darkly, and squirms with embarrassment, causing little pinpricks of pleasure to run through them both.

When Alan finally opens his eyes, the usual bright blue is completely gone, swallowed up by intense black desire. Martin whimpers in response. This is what he’s been dreaming of every night since Alan first auditioned for the band.

Alan leans closer, gauging his reaction. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but he’s definitely sure its something he wants. Sensing nothing but anticipation from Martin, he presses himself down fully, and lightly licks at Martin’s open lips, taking his time to appreciate their softness, before finally kissing him. Loosening Martin’s wrists, he moves to cup his face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further, slipping his tongue into the warm mouth waiting for him. Martin lifts his arms to wrap around Alan’s shoulders, dragging him even closer. His fingers trail down Alan’s spine, and he moans into Alan’s mouth as Alan shivers under his touch. Martin firmly grabs his arse, encouraging him to grind down on him.

Alan breaks the kiss to groan loudly, burying a hand in Martin’s hair as he attacks his neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin behind Martin’s ear. Martin slips his hands underneath Alan’s jeans and tugs him even closer, revelling in the heat created between their bodies. He feels Alan’s other hand creep beneath his jumper, pushing his shirt out of the way, and shivers at the coolness of the sand against his bare waist. Bucking his hips, he manages to flip them over, his turn now to molest Alan’s throat, his teeth leaving red marks on the pale skin. Alan squirms beneath him. There’s something uncomfortable about this.

Gasping, Alan tries to push Martin away. He has to use proper force before Martin gets the message and pulls his hands out of his jeans. “What’s wrong?” Martin’s face is flushed a deep red, which Alan mentally notes goes very well with his jumper. “Do you want to stop? Did I do something wrong??”

He puts an end to Martin’s bewildered questions by quickly pressing their lips together again. He pulls away to meet Martin’s hooded gaze. “You’re perfect.” Martin beams, as Alan continues. “But there’s sand in my arsecrack, and there’s a lot more comfortable places to continue this back at the house.”

Alan has barely finished speaking before Martin hauls him to his feet and practically starts jogging away. He grabs him by the hand before he can get too far, and pulls him back in for another quick kiss. “You forgetting about something Mart?”

Martin looks dazedly at him before a loud whine brings Jackson back to his mind. “Oh fuck yeah, the dog!” He hurries to untie him and they hurriedly set off back to the house, stopping every few meters for a quick kiss or a sneaky arse-grope.

***

Abandoning Jackson in the garden, Martin has Alan shoved up against the nearest wall before the back door has even closed. He tears the headache-inducing jumper over his head and flings it away, already pulling open Alan’s shirt buttons, and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Alan groans impatiently, fingers scrabbling at the button of Martin’s jeans. He finally gets it open and almost breaks the zip in his hurry to get Martin naked. Jerking back, Martin steps out of the jeans pooled round his ankles and draws his jumper and tshirt over his head, dropping them somewhere on the floor. He’s panting. Hard. And gazing at Alan with lust-glazed eyes that seem to darken with every passing second.

Growling, Alan attacks his chest, worrying his nipples with his sharp teeth before bathing them in his hot, wet mouth. Alan’s mere breath against his skin is enough to give Martin the most painful erection of his life. He whimpers as Alan’s hands circle his waist, grabbing at his hips and grinding his throbbing shaft against Alan’s crotch. He works a hand between their bodies and somehow manages to wrestle Alan’s trousers partway down his thighs.

 

 

The sight of Alan’s bare cock bobbing free makes his mouth water. He  _needs_  it in his mouth. Right fucking now. Wriggling out of Alan’s arms, he sinks to his knees, briefly glancing up at Alan’s face before leaning forward to lick a long stripe over Alan’s already weeping length. The keening cry overhead almost finishes him off. He shuffles forwards to take the entire shaft into his mouth, running his tongue lightly along the thick vein on the underside, as he takes Alan’s balls in his hand, enjoying the weight of them, and running his thumb over the tight skin behind them.

 

Alan’s knees buckle at the overwhelming sensation. Collapsing onto the floor, his cock slips from Martin’s mouth. Martin crawls over him to kiss him passionately, tongue darting into his mouth to twine with his own in a battle for dominance. A battle Alan won’t lose.

He rears forwards, pushing Martin onto his back, and ripping the grey briefs from his legs. Running his fingers along Martin’s length, he swipes his thumb across the sensitive tip, dragging a throaty moan from Martin’s mouth. He tightens his grip on Martin’s cock, long, even strokes that draw the most incredible sounds from the man beneath him.

Pulling away suddenly, Alan stands up. Martin’s eyes snap open in confusion. Alan tilts his head towards the door, and Martin quickly gets the message. Bedroom. Now.

They manage to get halfway up the stairs before Alan succumbs to the desperate need to lick Martin’s body from head to foot. He tastes fucking incredible. Groaning with the effort of holding a writhing Martin still, and trying desperately not to come before they’ve even gotten to the good stuff, Alan rests his head on the small of Martin’s back, breath lightly grazing the soft curve of his arse.

Martin is mumbling,  _begging_ , almost incoherent with desperate arousal. He has to feel Alan inside him before he screams. “Please! Alan, please! Fuck me!” The first remotely intelligible words to pass his lips in what seems like hours. It’s all Alan can do to not come right there.

He takes a deep, calming breath, which doesn’t actually calm him all that much, and spreads Martin’s supple cheeks. Sucking a finger into his mouth, he thoroughly wets it with saliva before trailing it gently down to circle Martin’s hole. The squeal that erupts when he presses in, leaves him gasping. Martin is bucking wildly against him, frenziedly trying to get some friction for his neglected cock against the carpeted stairs.

Afraid he might get carpet burn from his actions, Alan pulls him back onto his knees, and reaches around to fist his leaking cock. Martin has to rest his head on a step, moaning loudly. Alan quickly focuses on working his finger past the tight ring of muscles, pushing in a second, and a third.

 

Collecting the milky fluid trickling out of Martin’s cock, he uses it to lubricate his own length, their precum mixing together on his cock in the most outrageously erotic way. Guiding himself into position, Alan squeezes Martin’s hip in warning, and on receiving a sharp nod, presses inside.

 

The clinging, wet heat almost undoes him. He stills, trying to get used to the overwhelming tightness surrounding him, clutching his length like a vice. Alan waits for Martin to start breathing again, before pulling out to the tip and thrusting gently but firmly till his full length is buried inside Martin.

Sensing Martin needs more, Alan picks up the pace. Martin braces his hands on the steps above his head, and pushes back against Alan’s smooth thrusting, sending him even deeper. Neither of them will last long at this rate. He can hear Alan’s gasping moans and feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. Martin cries out as Alan hits his prostate, his muscles clenching firmly in response.

Alan lets go of Martin’s hip to grab hold of his cock again, pumping it frenziedly in time to his thrusts. He’s close. Very close. But he wants them to come together the first time. The first time… There’s no question of this not happening again. It’s a certainty.

Martin screams as he reaches his climax, back arching spectacularly, allowing Alan a whole new angle to thrust into him. He swiftly follows Martin over the edge, the pulsating heat and tightness too much for him. Groaning at the feeling of warmth caused by Alan’s hot seed filling him, Martin collapses forward onto the stairs gasping for breath. Alan falls onto his back, his softening length, slipping from Martin’s now pliant body.

They lie there, completely sated, in silence.

***

“How was your house-sitting adventure lads?” Dave wandered into the studio, Andy hot on his heels. “Get up to anything exciting?”

Alan and Martin exchange an amused glance. Deciding to let Alan answer, Martin turns back to the mixing desk. But not before he feels Alan take his hand and squeeze it, hidden underneath the desk. He sends him a shy smile, and Alan’s fingers tighten their grip. The reassurance in that simple gesture is worth more than a thousand words.

THE END


End file.
